


Tragedies Come in Threes

by orphan_account



Category: Hermitcraft RPF
Genre: (not graphic but mentioned), Angst, Choking, Gen, based off sarasp's redstone dream she posted on tumblr that one time, i don't even think the violence is graphic im just putting the warning on in case, other hermits are mentioned for like 3 lines at most, redstone sickness, tbh i wrote this months ago i just don't care now and am posting it bc whatever, this aint edited bc im a heathen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-19
Updated: 2020-05-19
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:20:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24265774
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Anger burns red.Tears flood red.Lungs fill red.
Relationships: author/sleep
Comments: 4
Kudos: 74





	Tragedies Come in Threes

_ His vision is red. _

It started with irritation. It was natural right? After all, something just...wasn’t working. Maybe it was the server? He swears that it went right in his test world. 

Perhaps he messed up somewhere along the way? But he checked the circuit over and over, so many times, even got outside help, and yet, it just. Didn’t. Work. 

Maybe it’s the update? But even then, all of the previous farms dotted around the server are working as well as before, and it’s not like he, out of the blue, decided that he wanted to use a new clock design.

It was starting to become frustration. Mumbo didn’t show to yet  _ another _ meeting, and Grian would probably break another machine. He stuffed the feeling down, it was all for fun, right? No need to explode on them.

Check it again.

**Anger** . He was angry. Everything was going wrong, wrong,  _ wrong, wrong, wrongwrongwrongwro- _

Snap out of it. He yelled during the meeting today. It really was bad, he couldn’t do that to his friends, Grian had shrunk back, had he scared them? Mumbo looked to be on the verge of tears,  _ was he really  _ **_frightening_ ** _ enough to do that to his friends? _

He checked it again.

**Rage.**   
  


He’s  **furious.** It’s not  **enough** that everything he  _ touches  _ goes  **_wrong._ ** That  **everything** that should be right is  **breaking,**

**breaking,**

**breaking,**

**b r e a k i n g**

but somehow, parts have gone missing. He first suspects the other redstoners, there’s been a shortage recently, everyone is talking about it. He  **shrieks** at Mumbo, as the teary eyed man begs him to “ _ stop, please”. _ He  **roars** at X, as their admin stares at him, flat eyed, like how he  _ never should look. _ He almost goes to brawl Doc when he realizes.

**Him.**

The builder of Sahara, Grian. He’s been trying to get his attention off the redstone, trying to distract him, trying to  _ steal, trying to break, trying to ruin,  _ **_trying to destroy everything. Hasn’t. He._ **

**His vision is flooded with red.**

_ His tears pool red. _

He’s really not sure when it starts. He just felt, just a bit...dejected. Yes, that’s the right word. Not for any particular reason, he’s messed up projects much more important than this, and yet… 

He’s fine, it’s probably been a bad day, after all, he’s had butterfingers the entire day, dropping redstone and watching the cloud puff up into air, it’s not like it took  _ half a day to mine out enough redstone for this farm and relocate his box, it’s fine. _

He’s pretty miserable. This farm just wasn’t working out, but then everything else he built also  _ just wasn’t working out. _ After realizing he was late, he just couldn’t go to the meeting. Grian, he couldn’t worry Grian even more. Mumbo had seen Grian scared more often in the past few weeks than at any other time during his stay at the server, and he was afraid of both of his Sahara partners. And Iskall was  _ trying _ , but he was never the best actor, Mumbo could see it, the disappointment in him, the irritation, and  _ if he couldn’t help then he’d disappoint them more and- _

Tears pooled in his eyes, but he held back.  _ He had to get back on track, he couldn’t disappoint them further. _

He was despondent. He was tired. He just wanted to fix everything. He just wanted to stop the tears from coming. But he’s given up at this point.

After the last meeting he went to, he just couldn’t hold back, the thought of redstone left him reduced to tears, every failure, every broken circuit, every mess up all flashed before his eyes. He couldn’t even keep count of his redstone inventory, he probably cried it all away, watching his tears pool, washing the dust away in red streams.

It’s funny, in a not really funny way, when Iskall comes and starts yelling at him that he stole redstone, when in reality, he’s been too dejected to even leave his farms, let alone run off to steal redstone from anyone. The tears keep falling, even as Iskall leaves. Were they even for his friend?   
  


**He is drowning in a pool of red**

_ The world is red. _

He wants his friends back. He  _ needs his friends back. _

He could tell right away, even before everyone broke down, that something wasn’t right. Iskall was a bit more huffy, Mumbo a bit more quiet, X a bit less caring, Doc a bit more antsy, everyone was slowly changing before his eyes. He blamed it on a bad day, bad luck, everything he could.

To be honest, he was  _ terrified _ that he was also changing, and just didn’t know it.

It was only until he bumped into Scar, chatted with Ren, saw Stress, when he realized:  _ redstone _ .

It, honestly, made  _ no sense _ . A pile of dust? Somehow suddenly changing his friends’ personalities?  _ How could that even- What? _ _   
  
_

But at this point, he’s getting desperate. He tried small things at first. Start a new game? Barely anyone participated. Anyone who did were barely affected, they didn’t do redstone, all the redstoners were at their bases or farms or shops. Invite them out? It worked sometimes, for just a little while. A few rounds of golf, a round of minigames, even just dragging them out to do some mining seemed to clear their heads for a little bit.

_ But they always returned to the redstone. _ They always returned  _ and they always got worse _ . It was like, for every step forwards with them, he’d wake up and they’d take five back.

He had started to take extreme measures. He had quietly dumped out the contents of his shulkers into chests, then, while nobody was watching, slowly gathered up the dust. At first, it was just enough to keep the machines from working. After all, they had to give up at some point, right?   
  


They didn’t.

He had to get more. He had to work fast, stuffing his shulkers as fast as possible, indiscriminately scooping components and dust into the containers. His breathing was becoming laboured, probably ( _ hopefully, a voice in the back of his head echoed _ ) from exhaustion. Dust floated in the air, certainly not enough to build anything with when it settled, leaving his eyes stinging, his lungs  _ burning _ , his skin stained. He couldn’t help but cough a little.

The server was in chaos now. He didn’t know what to do, was he making them worse? Everyone was panicking, there was so  _ much  _ **_fighting_ ** . He couldn’t stop now, he just couldn’t. The tiniest glimmer of hope that maybe, just maybe, they could be how they used to was just too much for him to say no to, they’d just get  _ worse if nothing was done _ .

His throat itched.

He was caught. He just started today’s dismantling, and he was caught. A sword blow through the chest, and half a shulker full of dust and components lost. That wasn’t the bad part. They  _ knew now. _ He had already taken care to hide the shulkers in a safehouse, hidden deep underground, away from everyone, but they  _ knew. They’re going to hate him for this. _

He can only wheeze when he respawns. He’s so tired.

The weeks pass in a blur, an endless cycle of  _ run, hide, and grab the redstone _ . He’s sure now that it’s not just exhaustion, not with the red on his lips and in the air and on his hands after a particularly bad coughing fit. But finally. 

He did it. He’s not sure how, not after that many hermits (his friends) hunting him, not with his weakening state, not with how close he’s come to dying so many times. But every last trace of redstone that he can find, it’s all hidden now. 

_ They’re not getting better, but they’re not getting worse _ , is all he can think as Doc lobs a trident through him, as Mumbo quietly pleas on the floor to him, as Iskall slams him to the floor, as Xisuma’s apathy turns cold to him, as everyone turns their back on him.

_ A small voice says that  _ **_he’s_ ** _ getting worse. He doesn’t really care. He doesn’t have the energy to. _

The room is silent. Red dust floats through the room, and all he can do is listlessly stare ahead.

It’s fine. Even when coughs wrack his body, even when he’s suffocating under the weight of the dust in his lungs, he’s relieved. They’re going to get better, he hopes.

**The world is red**

**His friends are red**

**His breaths are red**

  
  
  
  
He is so tired of red

**Author's Note:**

> I am posting this at 1 am because no one can stop me.


End file.
